


Weltschmerz

by BlackKat13 (orphan_account)



Series: Ein Blick in Ihren Leben [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bad Parenting, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Dave swears a lot, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homophobia, I Don't Even Know, Jealousy, M/M, Making Up, Some angst, Unrequited Love, non-sburb AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BlackKat13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your relationship had it's problems. Everyone's did, and those who acted like they didn't or said they didn't were fucking liars.</p><p>And just when you thought you found a problem that couldn't be solved, you received an accidental phone call that changed everything.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - </p><p>"Imagine Person A standing up to their parents to defend their love for Person B, of which their parents vehemently disapprove, and Person B can hear everything because Person A butt-dialed them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weltschmerz

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are sprawled out, alone, on the floor of your apartment, watching the ceiling fan rotate while your conscience is punching you and your wounded heart over and over in the metaphorical groin.

 

You also think this is going to requite a little explanation.

 

Before you get to _why_ you’re sitting there on the floor, you should probably clear up a few things first, such as the fact that you are undoubtedly, one-hundred percent head-over-heels-and-already-down-into-the-Earth’s-crust in love with one John Egbert, who you had first met when you moved to Washington in the ninth grade so your Bro could start ‘expanding his company’.

 

[You’re still not sure what he meant by that, since he runs an _Internet_ company, but you really don’t want to know. Some things about your brother and his penis puppets are better left unsaid, since you don’t want to end up in therapy at the age of nineteen because of your brother’s pornographic exploits. No thanks.]

 

Honestly speaking, John was one of your first friends when you moved here, even though he didn’t exactly make the best first impression. And by that, you mean that he had places a vast number of clear tacks on your chair before you sat down in one of your shared classes. He did apologize for it afterwards, but you had been so stressed already that you just flash-stepped and stuck a few of them down the back of his shirt.

 

You had expected him to try to get you back for that, but the next time you saw him, he had given you these big doe eyes, offered you one of his dad’s homemade cupcakes, and, in a voice that you can only described as a whirlwind of bubbliness, buckteeth and sunshine, proceeded to apologize profusely for his prank. He said how impressed he was that you actually retaliated – since almost no one ever tried to get him back like that before – and how he had been picking tacks out of his shirt all day! Rose had explained to him that you had been planning on moving to their school district, and John had been very excited to meet you! Because if you were Rose’s brother, you were going to be friends. That was an undisputable fact.

 

In all honestly, you thought he was really, really weird, but not in a bad way… just in a ‘is this guy even real?’ way.

 

You two became cohorts in almost no time at all – he even helped you get back at Rose for trying to get him to prank you in the first place. You still laugh whenever you remember the way she lost her cool. Admittedly, you’re not sure you would have been able to keep calm if you found Jade’s pet tarantula crawling on your face in your sleep, either. [If you bring up spiders around her, she still gives you the dirtiest of looks.]

 

And, you have to admit, being friends with John was the bees fuckin’ knees. No, it was more than that; John deserved at least an entire leg, if not the entire lower half of said bee for being the best bro you could have thought of.

 

I mean, sure, his taste in movies was really, really shitty sometimes. And he non-ironically liked some of the anime that your brother had you watch. And he pretended to hate his Dad’s baking – even though he always snuck cupcakes for your friend group, himself included, at least once a week. And he was really, really air-headed and dense to the world. And his glasses and buckteeth make him look like…

 

Well.

 

They made him look pretty goddamn adorable, but that was beside the point.

 

He was a really honest guy, if not a little blunt sometimes. He had a really good sense of humor, and he even understood more of your ‘irony’ than Rose did. He had no problem cutting off your stupid, shitty ramblings when you got carried away, and he was pretty decent at video games. His pranks got increasing better as the two of you had grown older, and you found them hilarious – when they weren’t on you. When he learned that you and your Bro sparred with swords, he took up watching you two when he was there, and sometimes even joined in with this crazy-ass war hammer that Bro had lying around. [John had originally tried with a sword, but watching him try to use a sword was like watching a dog trying to use a can opener. A hammer was just much better suited for him and his upper body strength anyway.]

 

You and John became the bane of every single teacher’s boring existence. Honestly speaking, looking back, the two of you were kind of fuckin’ annoying with all of the jokes and note passing and the obviously-not-giving-a-shit, but at the time, it was heaven. You and John were two halves of a wonderful, brotastic whole, and you spent as much time as you could together.

 

Rose was the one that had to point out that maybe it wasn’t so platonic. You remember wanting to punch her in the face after she had first asked if you viewed John as more than a friend, but instead you had choked on your soda and spilt it all over yourself. One point Rose, zero points for the ‘cool kid’.

 

You had spent such a long time thinking it over, trying to figure out if that’s really what it was that you missed a very vital piece of information: John Egbert, fifteen year old, best friend of Dave Strider for over two years, had gotten himself a girlfriend.

 

And you remembered head-butting your wall when you got home and thinking something along the lines of ‘God damn it, feelings. Why did you have to take so fucking long to make up your mind?’ But it was more than that: when you asked John casually if this meant that he was off the dude-hunting market, he immediately joked that he wasn’t a homosexual, Dave! Don’t be stupid.

Well, that had hurt a little more than you would’ve liked to admit.

 

So, over a span of about six months, you didn’t see much of John at all. His new girlfriend took up most of his time, and while he always apologized to you and tried to make it up with the occasional movie night, it wasn’t the same. You still joked around in school, but he always had to walk her to class, so he’d bail early.

 

And it wasn’t that his girlfriend was a terrible person. She really wasn’t. She was adorable and loved dressing in bright yellows and blues and she was just perfect for him. But you hated her, and you hated that you fucking hated her, because she was good for John, and he deserved to be happy. And yet, every single time he’d kiss her on the cheek or hold her hand, something inside of you twisted and snared on your heart and scratched it, making the beat skip for a little while until you remembered that he wasn’t _yours._ You didn’t have that right. You were just his best friend; your feelings didn’t entitle you to anything.

 

That was when you realized that you might love him, and not just have a crush.

 

Okay, you need to skip ahead a little bit, because you still get really fucking ugly feelings when you think about her.

 

And the four other girlfriends after her.

 

Until one night, you remember getting a knock at your door in the middle of some TV Show marathon that you had been invested in [alone, since Bro always worked on Fridays], only to find a drenched, teary-eyed and miserable John, asking if he could come in. You asked him what was wrong. He said his current girlfriend of a few weeks cheated on him, and they broke up. You let him inside, offered him some dry clothes – he was always a little shorter than you, but he had thicker muscle, so he had to wear a pair of loose jeans and one of your hoodies – and you watched a random conglomerate of action and comedy movies until he fell asleep, curled against your side.

 

Score one for the Strider.

 

You had wrapped an arm around him and taken off both of your glasses, setting them to the side before you had pulled up the blanket you were sharing and fell asleep, your head on top of his.

 

And the world was good.

 

Until he woke up the next morning.

 

The two of you had shifted in your sleep until you were spooning on the couch, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, your head buried into his hair. For you, that wasn’t a problem. In fact, you would have stayed there happily until you rotted into a pile of mush and bone.  John, however, had stiffened almost immediately, and he pulled himself out of your arms and whipped himself around to stare at you with shocked eyes of the bluest blue that has ever fucking blued. He laughed awkwardly, saying that you guys must’ve just gotten comfy, no big deal, right? Bros do that all of the time. It wasn’t like he was interested in you. Just needed a little comfort.

 

You were quick to assure him that it was totally just a bro thing, and there was no reason for him to freak out, even though it felt like you were chewing on the broken glass words you were speaking.

 

He looked a little unsure after that, but he had eventually gave in, saying that he was glad, because he had actually kind of enjoyed it.

 

You had to be a masochist or something. This was going to fucking kill you, and you knew it, but you couldn’t say no to having an arm full of Egbert, so you pulled him down, ruffled up his hair [despite his whiny and laughter-filled protests] before you pulled him against you again. You spent the day watching reruns of old cartoon shows and playing Mariokart together like that.

 

And that became a normal thing between the two of you. At first, you always had to initiate it, and he always put up a half-hearted struggle, but he was content having an arm around your waist or having his head on your shoulder in a matter of minutes. After a week or so of it, though, you could only assume that Strider cuddles were addicting or something, because John would curl with you out of the blue, whenever and wherever he could.

 

Rose gave you knowing looks, but you just brushed her off, giving her the ‘say a word and I will murder you in your sleep’ stare in reply. She didn’t say anything, and soon you two were attached at the hip even during school. You’d hold his hand or have an arm draped around his shoulders or his arm would he around your middle. It was just a normal thing, but it made you feel so, so happy.

 

That is, until Jade had to ask if you two were dating, because that’s so cute, you two! You should have told her! John looked absolutely sickened, and he rushed to explain right away that, no, you two were most certainly not dating! They were just bro cuddles, and there was nothing wrong with them, Jade!

 

You had opened your mouth to second John’s opinion, because you were selfish and you were fine being just bros if it got you cuddles, but Jade beat you to it, because oh, I didn’t know you hadn’t told him, Dave! That’s just silly! I’m sorry for assuming!

 

John had turned on you in an instant. Didn’t tell me what, Dave? he has asked, and you had wanted to run away and hide and become a part of the lockers behind you. Yes, be the locker, Strider. This wasn’t really happening.

 

Didn’t you know, John? she said. Dave likes you! Like, a lot! I thought he told you, cause its kind of really obvious, and if he hasn’t said anything, he really should, because you two would make the cutest couple!

 

You had flash-stepped the fuck out of that situation before the world around you could collapse, and you didn’t talk to John for an entire week after that.

 

You wish that was the reason why you’re beating yourself up right now, but sadly, it’s not. There’s a lot more to it than that, because Striders are fucking complicated and nothing involving emotions can ever be that easy. Nope. It’s in the rulebook.

 

You got a text message from John one day. It came out of the blue, and it wasn’t anything special, really. He had just asked if he could come over. You told him hell yeah he could, and you remember pacing around your apartment until there was a knock on the door. You were really fucking worried about what was going to transpire. Was he going to say you couldn’t be friends anymore? Was he could to forgive you? You had no idea, and you almost didn’t want to know.

 

Sometimes knowing was worse, because then you wouldn’t be able to pretend that everything would be alright.

 

However, when you opened the door, you were greeted with a bouquet being shoved in your face. You’re pretty sure the face you made was priceless, because your friend immediately started laughing, and most of the awkward tension melted away. You had asked him why the fuck there was a bouquet of flowers in your face. He explained it was because, well.

 

There was a moment of silence while he tried to figure out how words worked, and you remember fidgeting, even though Striders do not fidget. You can remember exactly what he said, even though it was almost four years ago.

 

“Well, I… I’m not a homosexual, okay? But I guess I really liked when we would… you know… cuddle together and stuff? Yeah, that was definitely a thing that I liked. And you like me, but… I just don’t know, Dave! Does that make me gay, then?”

 

You remember laughing, and John looked like he was about to cry.

 

“Fuck no, John. That means you have a crush on in me. Sexualities don’t quite work that way,” you had explained. “But, if you want to play tonsil hockey and fuck me into a mattress, then you’d be sexually attracted to me. Not just any guy.”

 

“Does it even work that way? That doesn’t make any sense.” Aw, he was so cute when he was confused.

 

“Yeah. It’s not a black and white kind of thing, John. God, don’t you read any of the shit you see on the Internet? I’m ashamed of you. I’m going to end up losing followers just by association, John. Think of the children.”

 

“No, I can’t say I looked up this kind of thing on the Internet, Dave, until like two days ago. The thought never even occurred to me.”

 

“Well, is the thought of fucking me occurring to you now?”

 

Despite the redness in his face and a sputtered out ‘Dave!’ [that you’re sure had about fifteen exclamation points attached], he said, “And… Well, I mean, I might want to? But you’re a guy, and that’s not how that’s supposed to work.”

 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not that difficult of a concept, John. Think of it this way: you had a girlfriend before, right?”

 

“Girlfriends, Dave. You’ve met them before, remember?”

 

“And what did you do with those girlfriends.”

 

“Why are you even asking, Dave? This has nothing to do with what we’re talking about!”

 

“Just answer the damn question, John.”

 

“We went on dates and kissed and stuff?”

 

“Okay. Can you imagine doing that with me?”

 

He scrunched up his nose, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought it over. “I... think so, yeah. I’d like that.”

 

“So where’s the problem in any of this, John? It’s not like it’s all that different, and you trust me, right? It’s going to be like being best bros, but with the benefits of having access to the Couples Membership Club. We’ll get to play in the pool and eat all of the fancy appetizers. Make fun of some of the old geezers laying around, laugh at the kids who don’t get a fancy Member’s Only jacket.”

 

“Well, my dad for one,” he mumbled dejectedly. “And I just… I’m not like that! I don’t think guys are attractive, except for you. Is that weird?”

 

“Nope. Shit happens, Egbert. It just appears on your path to life, and you stepped in it. No use in complaining about avoiding it cause that wasn’t possible. You just have to deal with it.”

 

“Dave, that’s gross.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So… What do we do?”

 

You had stared at him in silence. “What do you want to do? You’re the one that has the problems here, John, and I’m not going to make you rush into any shit you’re uncomfortable with. Hell, I’m down for cuddles and a movie, if that’s what this means.”

 

“That sounds like a plan.” His eyes had brightened up right away, and while there was still some awkwardness present, he seemed much more comfortable with himself for now.

 

And things returned to how they had been, with cuddles and hand holding and unofficial-official movie dates. When he finally felt comfortable enough to kiss you for the first time – after about a year of dating -- you had to resist the tremendous urge to fist pump into the air. [You had, of course, been at your place, since John doesn’t like PDA in public, and after all of what he had explained to you, his dad was really homophobic. Bro, however, didn’t have a single problem with any of it, if only that he didn’t want to watch the two of you make out on the couch. You had your own room for a reason.] He pulled away after, and he looked really uncomfortable, but after he kissed you again a little while later, you knew he was alright.

 

The first time you both managed to get your shirts off, you remember him being so entranced by all of the scars you received from strifing that he kissed each and every single one that he could find. You returned the favor, but since he had much less scars than you, you also did it with his beauty marks and freckles. He laughed breathlessly and you grinned at him, blowing a raspberry on his stomach.

 

You remember John suggesting that you take some martial arts classes together, because not only did it look interesting, but it would be something for you guys to do together. You were a natural at it after years of Bro’s training, but you were surprised to find out that John had a knack for it, too. He was the only one in the class that had ever beaten you, and you two traded victories constantly.

 

You discovered that John was rather ticklish on his sides and on his feet, and you exploited it as often as you could [without him getting actually angry at you]. He was frustrated that you didn’t seem to be ticklish at all until he found the spot at the back of your neck that made you shiver and get goosebumps, so it was all fair.

 

However, the closer the two of you became, the more you started to realize that John still wasn’t completely comfortable with it. Sure, when he was only around you, he didn’t seem to care at all. You’re actually sure he didn’t, considering he was the one who asked if you two could go farther than sloppy makeouts. You were more than happy to oblige. [You can now also honestly say that John is well-endowed, and you have never been fucked better in your entire life. For someone who had doubts about having sex with a man, your boyfriend was a fucking master.]

 

It was when you were in public, or really with anyone else, that he sometimes even shied away from the kisses you tried to plant on his cheek. He often refused to answer if the two of you were dating, or even outright denied it.

 

When you brought it up to him, though, and explained how much it tore you apart every time you listened to him say that, he had sworn that he would try to get over his insecurities. He told you he loved you, and you believed it.

 

He, slowly but surely, started to explain to his friends the nature of your relationship, and while he still wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, he would return little pecks that you would give him. He even started giving you random pecks in return, especially when he felt clingy or a little jealous. [Not that he had anything to really be jealous of. You were in love him this man. Like hell you’d cheat on him. Striders don’t do that sort of shit.] He explained, though, that he didn’t feel comfortable telling his dad yet. You understood. Even though it had been a few years since the two of you got together, John’s Dad, while an amazing father, wasn’t homosexuality’s number one fan.

 

[You’re also pretty sure that he wasn’t your number one fan either, being that you got his son into things like fighting with hammers, martial arts lessons, and you even took him to get a tattoo for his birthday. It was a simple one of two, curling blue lines together that reminded you of the wind, and you often traced it on his shoulder blades when you two were cuddling at night. Daddy Egbert wasn’t very pleased with some of these developments, to say the least.

 

That, and Bro didn’t exactly leave a good impression of the Striders the last time they met.]

 

After that, your relationship smoothed out. You fought occasionally over stupid things and had great make-up sex. You graduated from high school together, and were now attending a college not too far from where the two of you lived. It was still far enough that you had gotten an apartment together. You got the D whenever you wanted it, and John was more than enthusiastic to accommodate.

 

Rose called you at the beginning of the Christmas break – not even a month ago -- to apologize, since she wouldn’t be coming from her fancy, upscale college in New York to come visit. It wouldn’t be a problem, after all, she said, since you had an Egbert to spend the time with.

 

She was right, and you told her to have fun with her girlfriend.

 

The two of you had decided that you would spend a few days at the Strider abode to have some Christmas cheer, complete with eggnog, strifing and the best shitty Christmas movies that Netflix had to offer, before you would head over to casa del Egbert for Christmas Day.

 

That had been a horrible idea.

 

Well, not the first part. Having Christmas at your old apartment with Bro was actually one of the best decisions you’d ever made. Bro loved John and the fact that he could bake like a professional, so the three of you, wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, ate and drank and laughed yourselves silly.

 

John said that you would have to do this thing more often, being that Bro didn’t live that far away, and you had to agree. It was nice, coming back here, laughing it up. It felt like the family was complete, in a sappy sort of way.

 

You didn’t tell that to John, though. Instead, you’re pretty sure you said something dumb about John missing puppet dick, and he shoved you right off of the couch.

 

You had given John his present that night. It included a used keyboard that he could take back to your apartment [because he often missed having the baby-grand at his Dad’s house], a really cheesy and sappy scrapbook that you had made out of all of the photos you had taken of the two of you since you started going out [which was far too many for your tastes, but it made John happy, so it worked out], and a box. When he opened said box, the tips of his ears turned a bright red color before he gave you what could only be considered the most devious, sexiest look you had seen in your life.

 

You could hardly walk in the morning, but you did not give a single fuck.

 

John decided he would wait to give you his present until you got to his house, so you spent most of the trip over there thinking over what he could have possibly gotten you. Maybe he made a recording of some of his piano pieces? That would be really fucking great, if that were the case.

 

Instead, the only thing you can really remember from the Egbert Christmas Special was accidentally giving John a kiss – chaste as fuck, by the way – to the corner of John’s mouth as a thank you for getting you some eggnog.

 

John froze, and you were really, really fucking confused.

 

Until you remembered that his Dad was still in the room with you.

 

You were promptly kicked out of the house in a flurry of screaming, John’s cries, and a slammed door. You didn’t see John for a few days after that until he came into the apartment. He took two steps into your place before he started sobbing, sliding down the wall to curl up into a ball.

 

You were out of your cozy ass place on the couch in heartbeat, pulling him close to you, peppering his hair with kisses, hands soothingly running over his knees, his back, whatever you could reach, really. You waited until he was calm again before you had to ask. “John, where the fuck have you been? I was worried sick about you. You could’ve at least answered your phone to let me know that a serial killer hadn’t captured you. Think about it, John. I could have been texting a dead person.”

 

“Dave, not right now. Please.”

 

You went quiet, and pressed your forehead to his. “Tell me what happened?”

 

“My Dad… He’s really not happy about us.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“He took my phone away.”

 

“Well, that at least explains why you weren’t answering. Though, I’m betting he’s not going to appreciate some of those texts that I sent.”

 

“…What did you send?”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

There was a beat of silence between the two of you. The only sound was the soft hiccupping from John as he tried to make himself stop crying. You hated to see him cry, even though it rarely happened.

 

“He’s making me move back home with him.”

 

 _What?_ “That’s really funny, John.”

 

“Dave, I’m being serious.”

 

“But he can’t do that! You’re _nineteen_ years old for Christ’s sake, John. He can’t _make_ you do shit! You’re an adult.”

 

“But he’s my _dad,_ Dave. And you know that he helps me pay for college, so if I don’t listen, then he’ll force me to drop out, and I… I don’t know what else to do, Dave,” he whispered, and that broke your heart into tiny pieces.

 

“Well, maybe I can get Bro to help pay for it. You know the guy’s swimming in more puppet dinero than the guy knows what to do with, and he’s already paying for mine. It’s not like it’ll be that big of a deal.”

 

“Dave.”

“And then you won’t have to go live with a Dad you makes you feel this shitty about yourself. He can’t make you do this, John.”

 

“Dave.”

 

“What.”

 

“I can’t let your brother do that. I’m sorry, Dave. I just have to do this, okay? He’s… He’s my dad. I can’t just say no.”

 

You sighed through your nose. “I know, but I feel like I’m going to lose you. I really don’t want to fucking lose you over your Dad.”

 

“You won’t, Dave. I promise.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

“What makes you think I won’t keep it, Dave? I’m being serious!”

 

“I know you are, John, but do you honestly think Dad is going to let you leave the house if he knows you’re going to visit me? Or give you back your phone, if he knows you’re just going to use it to talk to me?”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The two of you were curled up in each other’s arms in the middle of the hallway, not that that thought occurred to you at the time. Your only thought was: _I am going to lose him. I am going to lose him because of his fucking father._

 

“Maybe… Maybe we should just stop this.”

 

You let out a choked sound. “What?”

 

“That’s the problem, right? That we’re together? So, if we break up—“

 

“John Egbert, do not even fucking suggest that. I am not letting you go this easily, and if it is going to happen, it sure as fucking sunshine isn’t going to be because some middle-aged homophobe decides that I’m not good enough for you. I love you, and I will not hear any more of this blaspheme in our apartment.”

 

“That’s my dad you’re talking about, Dave.”

 

“And every single thing I said was completely true.”

 

“I guess you’re right… but it’s just easier this way, okay? But I guess I can’t really do much about it now, since this is only your apartment now, huh?”

 

“Egbert, _please_ don’t move out. Don’t do this.”

 

“I have to, Dave. I don’t want to, but I have to.”

 

“No, you fucking don’t!” you hissed out at him. “You can stay here, John. I almost think that it’s just that you don’t _want_ to, because you know as well as I do that there is nothing that can _make_ you leave! He can’t make you break up with me. You’re not a kid anymore.”

 

“Are...” his eyes widened before they look hurt. “Are you seriously implying what I think you are? Dave, I—“

 

“Why else would you be so okay with this? Why else wouldn’t you fight more to try to stay here? I don’t get it, John. I want to understand, but I don’t get it. _Please_ , John.” You were being stupid, you know. Selfish, even, but with the way you felt, you didn’t know what else to do. You were losing everything that you had, everything you loved, everything that had made you happy for the past five fucking years. It felt like you were being pushed through an industrialized shedder, and every piece of you was being cut up into tiny, broken shards.

 

“Fuck you, Dave,” he said shakily. “Fuck you for thinking that! How could you even—Dave, you _know_ why! I _want_ to stay here, but I **_can’t_**!”

 

“Then get out.”

 

He looked absolutely lost as you pulled away from him like he was poison, but as far as you were concerned back then, he was. He was poison inside of you, making you weak and heartbroken and alone. “W-What?”

 

“I said get out. I’ll send your shit over later.”

 

He scrambled up, staring at you disbelievingly, but you refused to meet his eyes. It wasn’t even like he could tell with your shades on. He stood there for what felt like forever before he threw his keys on the small table next to the door and opened it. You think he looked back over his shoulder at you, but you aren’t sure. “Goodbye, Dave. I love you.”

 

And he was gone.

 

It has been two weeks since then, and you haven’t heard a single word from him. You did ship him his stuff – well, most of it, anyway. You kept one or two of his hoodie and a few other things that were kind of difficult to send, but you didn’t really care.

After all, you’re laying on the floor, wearing one of his hoodies, staring at the ceiling fan and hoping that this was all just some kind of huge fucking dream so you could just wake up with his arms around you again.

 

You really just want him back, but fuck him for not trying to fight for you. Fuck him for doing this at all. _Fuck_ him.

 

You love him, and you hate him for it. He hasn’t even said one thing to you since he left. You can’t really blame him, being that Daddy dearest monitors his every movement now.

 

You debate getting off of the floor to go eat something, but you were never that great at cooking. He was always the better chef, and you don’t feel like eating some microwavable crap again.

 

You’re actually about ready to give up and just spend the rest of the day on the floor – because who even needs to go to classes anyway? You have literally no motivation to do much of anything these days outside of wallow in self-pity and maybe make some music if you’re feeling particularly restless – when you hear a familiar sound.

 

It’s the first verse to a song that you haven’t heard in so long that it makes your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion.

 

_He's not a parrot and he thinks he's a pie_   
_But he's just a perfume wearing dotted yellow line_   
_And I respect that_

The words were utter nonsense, but you remember why you had liked this song in the first place. It was because of the piano in the background, the soft and upbeat and quirkiness that always made you think of—

 

That was your ringtone for John.

 

You snatch your phone from the coffee table as fast as possible, answering the call with a hurried “John? Fuck, John, is that you?” before you hear muffled screaming through the phone.

 

“—u’re being senseless! I am trying to do what’s best for you, son!”

 

“No, I’m not, Dad!” _Is that John?_ you think numbly, before it occurs to you: he must have accidentally dialed your number. He has no idea his phone is even on. “What happened to the Dad that said he’d be proud of me no matter what I did?”

 

“That was before you decided to… to…”

 

“To what, Dad? To fall in love? To be fucking happy?” The way his voice broke makes your heart do a funny little flip, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re getting up and hunting around for your car keys.

 

“To be gay! And for that Strider boy? Son, this isn’t normal. You’re just confused because that boy planted all of this in your head.”

 

“But he didn’t, Dad, that’s the thing! I am in love with Dave, and I didn’t move back here because I wanted that to change! And I’m not going to stay here if all I’m going to get is tormented for it!”

 

“You don’t mean that, John. Don’t you remember all of the girlfriends you had in high school? You’re not like this, son.”

 

“So what if I had girlfriends! I love Dave more than I ever cared about all of them combined, Dad, and nothing is going to change that.”

 

You’re already driving, the phone sitting on your passenger seat so you can listen to all of this via speakerphone. You couldn’t believe what you were even hearing. You couldn’t even think. Just drive.

 

“John, stop this. What do you even think you’re going to accomplish by arguing with me? You’ve already broken things off, son. He’s probably already moved on, or haven’t you noticed that he hasn’t tried to contact you?”

 

“Because you threatened to call the police if he did! Dad, I…” There was a pause in the conversation, and what you heard next made you cover your mouth with one hand. “Dave was right. Dad, you’re my parent, but I am not taking this from you. No. I’m an adult, and I have the right to make my own choices. And if you’re not going to change your mind or even give me a chance, then why should I stay here to just get hurt and screamed at by you? I don’t fucking deserve this, Dad. I didn’t do anything _wrong_!”

 

“Didn’t do anything wrong? You—“ There was the sound of shuffling. “ _John, you get back here! Where do you think you’re going?”_

“I am not going to stand here and let you harass me. I’m done, Dad. Done.”

 

There was a long, long silence. “Get out of my house, John.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

By this point, you’re less than two minutes away from where the Egbert residence is, and you’re utterly speechless. Is this what John’s had to put up with since he left – no, since you kicked him out? That thought makes you feel sick to your stomach. You condemned him to this. You should have fought harder to make him stay. You should have—

 

The sound of shuffling and static from the phone draws you out of your thoughts, and you hear a “Fuck, I butt-dialed someone. Hello? Is anyone there?”

 

You remove your hand from your mouth, keeping your eyes focused on the road. Your voice is a little shaky when you speak. “Yeah, ‘m here.”

 

“…D-Dave?”

 

“John.”

 

“Did… How much of that did you hear?”

 

“Enough.”

 

“How much is enough?”

 

“Around the whole ‘proud of you’ section.”

 

“Oh. Uh… Look, Dave, I—“

 

“I’m driving to your house right now. I’ll be there in about two minutes.”

 

“What—“

 

“Your options are either to get as much of your shit as you can and meet me outside so I can take you _home—“_ and fuck did it feel good to say that. You’re pretty sure this is the most emotional you’ve sounded on your years as a human being, and somehow you’re smiling “—or I can turn around right now. What’ll it be?”

 

“You’re… You’re being serious,” he stammered, confused.

 

“Of course I’m fucking being serious, John. I love you, you tremendous dork, and you know all of that mean shit that I said about you not meaning things and not wanting to fight with your dad? Well, they’re wronger than all fucking wrong, and I want you to come home, so please tell me it’s the first option, because if it’s not, I’m going to be really fucking sad. I’ll cry all of the tears over here, John. All of them. It’ll be like Hurricane Sandy up in this bitch, but with Strider tears.”

 

“Dave.”

 

“What.”

 

“You’re a complete dork, and you’re rambling again.”

 

“I know. Does that mean you’re coming?”

 

“Hmm... I don’t know…” he said, but you could tell from the way he was drawing out syllables that he wasn’t seriously considering this. You could also hear the sound of him opened drawers and zipping up things in the background. “What do I get if I do come back home?”

 

“I will give you the best full body massage of your life, treat you to dinner and a movie of your choice, and be your slave for a day.”

 

“Does this slave for a day option include _anything_?”

 

“Yes’ir.”

 

“Any way I want?”

 

“You know it, babe.”

 

“I’m waiting for you outside.”

 

“Fucking awesome.”

 

“Oh, and Dave?”

 

You’re smiling like an idiot now, pulling up to his house. The phone is now pressed against your ear, and you lean out of the window to get a good look at him, letting the pressure in your chest evaporate. “Mhhh?”

 

He strolls right up to your side of the car, phone still pressed against his ear, and leans in to kiss you, his hand curling up into your hair.

 

“I missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too. Now get your ass in the car before Dadbert sees us.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something that I've wanted to write for a really long time, and I've finally gotten around to it.
> 
> And yes, I will be updating my other fic as soon as I kick my ass into gear. D:


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